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Star-Embracing Swordmaster Chapter 38: Give and Take (1)

Chapter 38: Give and Take (1)

I opened my eyes‌​ to an unfamiliar​‍⁠ ceiling.

“I’m‌‍ going to die…”​‍‍

In‍⁠​ reality, it was⁠⁠‌ the same ceiling​ as yesterday.

But‍ the colorful drawings⁠ embedded in the​ ceiling only made‍⁠‌ it seem more​‌ unfamiliar.

For​ a street kid,‌ the aesthetics of⁠‌ the aristocracy remained⁠‍‍ hard to understand.‍

“Ugh…”‍⁠⁠

Vlad‌ tried to raise⁠​ his hand towards‌ the teapot beside‌‌ him, but his⁠⁠ bones began to⁠‌ ache as if⁠ he had taken​ a severe beating.⁠​​

He​​ hadn’t suffered any​‍​ serious injuries, but‌‍​ the throbbing pain​ was an accurate‌‌ description of how‍ Vlad felt at‌ that moment.

It‍⁠ had to be​ this way.

He​ had shattered the⁠‌‌ shell that surrounded‌⁠ him with all‌‍ his might.

“Goethe.”​​

“What’s‍‍‍ wrong, Captain? Is‌ there any discomfort?‌ Whom do you⁠ want me to⁠ call?”

Goethe,‍ who had been⁠⁠‌ dozing in the⁠​ chair next to‌‌ the bed, started​‌​ to ask exaggeratedly​​⁠ upon Vlad’s call.⁠

“…”‍​

Vlad’s‌‍ response to Goethe,⁠​ who could see​​​ through him, was​ somewhat in jest,​‍​ but now it​⁠ was just a jest.

He⁠​⁠ knew very well‌‍​ why Goethe was⁠​ there.

“Give⁠‍⁠ me some water.”‍​‌

“Alright,‌‌‍ huh?”

Vlad‌⁠‌ thought as he​⁠​ watched Goethe leave‍ the room, claiming​​‍ there was no​‍ water in the⁠ teapot.

Still,‌​⁠ it’s worth having‍​ him around.

His‌ intentions were transparent,⁠ his purpose clear,‌ and if he‍‌ couldn’t be trusted,‌​‍ at least he‍ could be kept⁠‌ alert.

In‌ life, there were‍ many people who⁠ smiled at you⁠​⁠ upfront but hid​⁠ a sharp blade​ behind their backs.​‍

It’s​‌‌ better to have​⁠ someone like Goethe⁠⁠‍ by your side‍ than be stabbed‍ by one of​⁠​ them unprepared.

“And‌‍​ he’s good at…”‍‌

Being‌​ a former mercenary⁠‍ and still doing‌ his job as‌‌ a stable boy⁠⁠ for House Bayezid​ meant that at​​‌ least Goethe wasn’t‌⁠ as incompetent as⁠⁠ to go starving‍ somewhere.

As⁠‌​ much as he‍ hated to admit‌⁠‍ it, he had‌ received some help​⁠ here and there,​‌​ so he was‌⁠ willing to let‌‌⁠ Goethe pick up⁠‍ any crumbs that‌⁠​ fell his way.‌⁠

He⁠ could understand Goethe’s​‌‍ desire to cling‍‍​ to him.

Click.‍‌​

Taking‍‌‍ a moment to‍​⁠ gather his thoughts,​​​ the door opened,‍‍⁠ and Goethe came​ in.

“Pour⁠‌‍ me some water.”‌​‌

“…”⁠​

Vlad,‍ still gazing at‍‍⁠ that unfamiliar ceiling,⁠ motioned for Goethe‍‍ to pour him‌⁠ water.

It​‌ was the least‍⁠ he could do⁠​ if he wanted​⁠‌ to call himself⁠ a captain.

Purr-.‍‌

Vlad‍​ turned his head‌‍ upon hearing Goethe‌⁠ pouring water into⁠⁠ a cup.

And‍ the sound of‍‌‌ wind being sucked‌ in replaced the​ cry.

“Hmph…”‍

“Did⁠⁠⁠ you rest well?”‌​

The‌‌ person beside him‌‍ was pouring water⁠​ without saying a word.

“I’m⁠ glad to see​‌ you seem to⁠⁠ have regained your​‍ strength.”

The‌⁠‌ man serving him⁠​⁠ water with an‌ unusually generous smile‍‌​ on his face‌ was Joseph, the‌ man to whom⁠​ he had sworn‍ loyalty.

Vlad⁠‍⁠ realized he had‌​‌ committed a great‌⁠ insolence and hastily⁠⁠​ bowed, exclaiming, “I’m‍​ sorry!”

“I’m‍⁠ sorry was a mistake…”

“It’s‍ okay. Make yourself‍⁠​ at home.”

Hurriedly‍ taking the water‌ glass from Joseph’s‍‍ hand, Vlad gulped⁠‌ it down, helpless,⁠ whether his body‍‌ hurt or not.​​

The​⁠ remaining water dripped⁠​ onto the blanket.​

“Does⁠‌ something hurt in⁠‌ particular?”

“…Nothing.”‌⁠

Still,‌‌‍ the chill in‌‍ the air seemed​​ to have sobered⁠ him up, and‌‌ Vlad responded with‌‍ the courtesy he⁠⁠‍ had learned from‍⁠‍ the countless beatings‌‍ Jager had given‌ him.

“Alright.”⁠⁠‍

Joseph⁠​​ sat in the‍‍‌ chair where Goethe⁠‌ had been sitting⁠​ moments ago and​ looked at Vlad.‌‌‍

“Thank⁠⁠​ you. To be​ honest, I didn’t⁠‍ think you would⁠ go that far.”⁠

Thinking‌‌‍ about the duel​ Vlad had shown⁠​ that day, Joseph​‌‌ spoke candidly to⁠ his squire.

“Thank‍‌ you.”

Acknowledging‌​​ the sincerity in‍⁠⁠ Joseph’s words, Vlad‍‌ involuntarily clenched his‍⁠​ fists, trying to​‍ revive the feeling‌⁠​ of that day.‌⁠‍

There‍ were memories, faint‌⁠⁠ but present.

They‌‌ were like dried​‌ flowers that had‌ lost their scent,​⁠​ but they were​‍​ the kind of‍ memories that made⁠​⁠ his heart race⁠​ just thinking about‌‌ them.

“But‌ the duel is…”​‍

If⁠⁠​ he had been‍⁠ an ordinary noble‍⁠ and squire, he‌​​ wouldn’t have been‌ able to ask​⁠ such a question.⁠‌‍

But​‌ Vlad knew he​‍ had gone too‌ far.

He‍⁠ was one of⁠ the few sailors⁠ aboard Joseph’s great‌​ ship, and he​ knew he was‍ one of the‌ ones expected.

Vlad​​ of Soars was‍ the one Joseph⁠ allowed.

“So,​ the duel. I should tell you⁠‌​ about it.”

Since​ he had awakened‍‌ here, Vlad had‍‌‍ been curious about‌⁠​ the outcome of⁠ the duel.

What⁠‌ had become of⁠ the woman with​⁠​ watery hair who​ had cried so​‍ pitifully?

Had‍​ Joseph achieved what⁠ he wanted, asking​ him to endure⁠ for ten minutes?‍

Vlad‌ had many questions,​⁠​ but he had‌‍ no one to‌​ ask until now‌ because Goethe, who‌ stayed by his‍‌‍ side, was nothing​ more than a stable boy, and‍‍​ the only people‌​‌ coming in and​‌ out were the‌⁠ maids tending to‌‍ his wounds.

“Since⁠‌ you were part‍‍‍ of the duel,‍⁠⁠ you deserve to‌​ hear the details​‍⁠ of the outcome.”‍​‌

And⁠⁠‌ now, before Vlad’s​‌ eyes, was the​​⁠ man who had⁠⁠ everything about the​ duel in his⁠‌ hands.

Joseph‍‌ nodded to Vlad’s‍‌ question and opened‍ his mouth.

“The​ duel has been​ suspended.”

“If‍ it’s suspended, then…”‌​​

“It‌‌ means it was⁠ postponed without producing⁠ results.”

Joseph‍ told Vlad that⁠‌ the rules of‍​ the Sacred Duel⁠ and the discipline‌‍​ of the Swordmaster​‌ had become quite​‌​ complicated.

Vlad​ nodded, listening to‌ Joseph’s words.

The⁠​​ Discipline of the⁠‍ Swordmaster.

Although‌⁠​ he couldn’t tell​ him the true‌‍​ outcome of the‍⁠‌ duel, the voice‍‌ had explained to⁠​ him what the​ Discipline of the‍‌ Swordmaster was.

“To‍ become a knight,‍‌ you must swear‍‍‌ an oath to‍​ the Discipline of⁠​ the Swordmaster. Vlad,⁠‌ if things go‌‌‌ well for you,‍ there will come⁠​​ a day when​‍ you have to‌ make that oath.”⁠‍

As‍‍‌ the basic steps​⁠‍ to becoming a knight flowed from⁠‌ Joseph’s lips, Vlad‌‍‌ felt a tingling‌⁠​ in the depths⁠⁠​ of his chest.‌⁠

Knight.‌‌‍

Always‌ had yearned for‌​ that word, one​​‌ that made him⁠​ feel special just​ by pronouncing it.‌⁠

And⁠ now, the boy‌‍‌ has taken a step on the​ path to becoming⁠‌ a knight.

It​⁠ was a moment​‌​ when dreams turned​ into goals.

“I⁠⁠‍ hope you’re taking​⁠ care of yourself‌ because I don’t‌‍​ want you staying⁠⁠ here for too⁠⁠‌ long.”

“Right​ now, I’m going‍‍ to…”

“You‌‍ can’t do that.”​

said‌‍‍ Joseph, standing up.‌

“I’m​ a man who​‍⁠ knows how to‍ save what he‍ can.”

Joseph‌⁠‌ looked at Vlad​ and smiled.

“There‍‍⁠ will be a reward for this.‌ So rest easy.”‌​​

An⁠‍ explanation of the‌ consequences, a sincere​⁠‌ word, and the⁠​​ promise to give‍​ him his reward.⁠

Having‍ come and said⁠​‌ only what needed‍ to be said,‍ Joseph left quietly‍​ through the door.⁠​

“…”​‍

Vlad‍ stood still, reflecting‌ on Joseph’s words,‌‌‌ and turned his‌‌‍ head to look‍​ at the hilt‍ of the sword‌‍ he kept by‍​ the bed.

The⁠‍‍ red glow of‌‍ the setting sun‍‍ streamed through the⁠⁠ window and clung‌​ to the blade.⁠‌⁠

“A‍⁠​ reward.”

Joseph’s⁠⁠​ words about giving‌ what was due​‌ for what had‌​⁠ been done were​ not always true.‌​⁠

Especially⁠‌ in the streets‍⁠​ where the boy‍ lived.

Rewards⁠​ didn’t always come⁠​ with hard work,⁠‍ and sometimes they‌‍​ didn’t bring rewards‌‍ at all.

So⁠‍‍ he was lucky.​⁠

To⁠ meet a guy​ named Joseph.

Vlad⁠‍ thought, reaching for‍‌‍ the sword he‌⁠‍ had carried with⁠​ him since he⁠ had escaped from‍⁠ Soara.

A sword that an‌⁠ inexperienced old blacksmith​ had forged with​‍ all his might.‍​‍

The⁠‍‌ only thing he‍⁠ could always count‌‌‍ on, regardless of‍‍ effort or outcome.​‌

“I‍‌ did well then,⁠‌ didn’t I?”

Vlad’s‌​‌ question made the‌‍⁠ sword weep.

This⁠ time, it wasn’t‌ a sword without​ anything, but a voice in its‍ soul.

***​‌

An‌⁠⁠ empty corridor, tinted‍⁠ with the crimson⁠⁠⁠ of the sunset.⁠​

A man walks down⁠‌ a corridor that‍‌ no one else⁠‌ seems to walk.⁠‌‌

A knight who did‌ not know honor.⁠‌

Jubert,​‌​ of House Shazad,‍‍ was about to‍ leave after completing‍⁠ all his duties‍‍⁠ for House Heinal.‍⁠

It‍ was a mission​ that would have‍ been a failure​‍ if he had​ failed, but his‌⁠ lord would understand⁠ if he found​​⁠ out the current⁠ situation.

He​‍‍ couldn’t blame the​ sea for the‌‍‌ waves, nor the⁠​⁠ sky for the‌⁠‍ wind.

The‍ events of that‍‌⁠ day were beyond‌‍ Jubert’s control.

It‍‌ was a kind​ of disaster.

“The‍​ more I think‍‌‌ about it, the⁠ more ridiculous it‌ seems.”

Jubert⁠‍‍ licked his lips‌‍ as he remembered‍ the absurdity of⁠⁠​ the duels.

As‌ he walked down​​ the corridor, lost‌⁠‌ in thought, a sword suddenly emerged⁠‌‌ from the shadows‌⁠‌ at the end‌‍​ of the hallway.⁠

“You…​‌ really don’t have​ to do this.”⁠⁠​

“I’m​‌ only doing it‍​ because I want‌​ to.”

From‍​‍ the dark shadows‍​ emerged a man‍ with narrowed eyes.‍‍

Jager,⁠‌ Knight of Bayezid.​

He⁠ had waited in⁠‌‌ the darkness for⁠‍​ the dishonorable knight,⁠ anger concealed in​ his left eye,​​‌ covered by an‌ eyepatch.

“How​⁠ long have you‍ been waiting? Don’t​‌ you have anything‌‍‍ better to do?”‍⁠⁠

“I’m‍⁠ leaving today.”

“Isn’t⁠ it a waste​‌ of your vacation?”⁠⁠⁠

Even‍ with the cold‍‌⁠ blade of the⁠‌‍ sword against his‍‍ throat, Jubert refused​ to abandon the​ smile on his⁠⁠‌ face.

He‌ seemed like a man who would​​ smile until his​‌‌ last breath.

“If‍​​ you have time⁠ off, you should‍ always catch up.”‍⁠⁠

But‌‌ if his twisted⁠​‌ personality was any⁠ indication, Jager was⁠ not an easy‌​ man to please.​⁠⁠

The‌‍‍ two knights faced‍ each other with⁠ fake smiles and‌⁠ cold expressions.

“I⁠⁠ know you regret⁠‍ it, but I couldn’t help it.”‌‍

“I‍⁠ guess I can’t‍‌‍ help it either.”​

A single drop of⁠‍‌ crimson blood began⁠ to drip from⁠‍‌ the tip of‍ Jager’s sword as⁠ he held it‍​⁠ against Jubert’s throat.‌

The⁠‌ drops soaked the⁠‌‌ red carpet on‌ the hallway floor.​‌​

“Are‌ you going to‌‍ kill me?”

“…”‌‌‌

Jubert’s​⁠ question, still undisturbed‍‌ by the blood​ flowing from his‌‍​ neck, was met⁠‌ with silence from⁠​​ Jager.

“It’s​​⁠ a shame; we⁠‌‍ share the same‍⁠ profession. You should‍‌ be able to​‌⁠ understand.”

Even‍ as he spoke,‌ Jubert’s fingers were‌ intertwined, gently moving‌⁠ away from the​ tip of Jager’s​‌‌ sword.

A faint light glowed​⁠ at the tip​⁠​ of his fingers.​⁠‍

“What⁠‍​ can I say,‌ if my lord​​ tells me to‌ bark, I’ll bark.”​‍

For‌ a knight, the‌‍ orders of their​​ lord come first,‌‌⁠ their honor second.​⁠​

Therefore,​‌ for a knight‌‍ without honor, there​ is only one⁠‌ thing that matters:‍ the orders of‌‌‌ their lord.

“You’re​‌⁠ not a dog​‌ that bites only​​ when your master​⁠ tells you to⁠​ bite. They call‍​ us knights, but‌ that’s not what​‌​ we are.”

Jager⁠‌‍ did not respond‍‍​ to the man‍‍‍ who stood defiant⁠ before him.

Bam!⁠‌

Instead,‍ he threw a furious punch.

Crimson‌ blood sprayed from‌‍⁠ Jubert’s face.

“My​​ lord is a good man, so⁠​​ a little bite‍​​ is fine.”

“Ugh,‌‍‌ you bastard…”

Joubert‍⁠‌ laughed, spitting something‍ fishy from his⁠⁠⁠ battered mouth.

“Is​⁠‌ this enough…?”

“One⁠‍ more.”

Before⁠ Jubert could finish⁠​‍ his question, Jager’s⁠‍‍ sharp knee thrust‌⁠⁠ into Jubert’s abdomen.‌

“Kuluk-kuluk-.”​‌⁠

“Since​‍ we’re in the​ same line of​⁠ work, you’ll understand​​⁠ this, right?”

“Kulk-uh.‍‌​ Indeed… This should⁠​ be appropriate.”

Jager​ frowned as he⁠ looked at Jubert,⁠ who remained relaxed‌‍‍ despite being struck.⁠

On‌​‌ that day on‍ the dueling field,​‌ the honorable knight⁠ had deceived Alicia⁠​⁠ and mocked Joseph.‍‌

The​ mockery of his⁠⁠ lord’s honor was⁠‌‍ too much for‍‍​ Jager.

But‌ the decision to‌‍‌ kill the knight⁠‌⁠ before him was‍‍ not an easy‌‌‌ one, not for‍‍‌ him, not even‍‌ for Joseph.

Their⁠⁠ relationship was already⁠ strained, but here,⁠ they were mere‍⁠⁠ guests.

Moreover,⁠‍⁠ killing a knight‍‌⁠ from either of​‌ the two houses‍⁠⁠ would be equivalent‍ to a declaration⁠⁠ of war.

Although⁠ his relationship with‌⁠ Shazad was broken,‌‍ it was beyond⁠ Joseph’s power to​​ decide whether to​ act accordingly.

Only‌‌​ one person could‌ decide that. Fether‌⁠ Bayezid, Head of​ the Bayezid family.‌

“I​‌‍ hope to see​⁠ you next time.”​

“Well,‌ I guess we’ll‌ meet sooner or‍ later.”

The‌ two knights, aware‌ of the circumstances,⁠‌ exchanged a weak⁠​ exchange of what‍⁠ they had to‍​ give and what‍ they had to​ take.

“Isn’t‌ this the time‌ of year when‌​⁠ the empire crumbles,​‌‍ and people don’t‍‌‍ come together because⁠‍‍ they wish?”

Even⁠⁠‌ Jager bit his‍ tongue as he‍‍ watched Jubert, who⁠‌ smiled as if‌‍⁠ the blow hadn’t​‍‌ affected him.

“Until‌‍ next time.”

Watching‌‍‌ Jubert walk away,⁠​​ running his hands​​‍ through his hair,​‌‍ Jager sheathed his‍ sword in silence.​‌

Perhaps‌‍‌ Jubert was right.‍​​

The​​ moment was coming.⁠​

A time when the‌ sword was more⁠ necessary than ever.‌‍

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